A Tale of Common Teen Jeal Epic Proportions!
by SammyQuill
Summary: In which there is young Roy, young Riza, a school dance, a bell and some revenge. Humor!RoyAi, written pre-canon.


1. Written as part of a challenge with mebh, Disastergirl, Thousand Sunny Lyons and Megami Ze to the theme of a) bell and b) revenge. It had to be a humor shot because writing angst is way too easy. *pretends she isn't well over the 500 – 1000 word limit* XD

2. A big shout out to my Link Fairy, maryh10000 and Lou Nebin who infected me with her fluff/good humor for this. Dedicated to Bookwrm389 who wanted to see this idea developed into a proper one shot. I hope you like it!

3. This piece is completely unbeta-ed so apologies for any typos and grammar/spelling/punctuation errors you might find. This is what I get for writing an entry on the last day. *blush*

4. The next chapter of _What Hurts The Most_ is with my beta who is an incredibly busy person so please be patient.

5. Companion pieces/recommended reading for this includes _Rocky Introductions_, _And So It Came To Pass_ (chapter 72), _In The Margin_ and _Almost Here _(chapter 8). However, you don't have to read anything in advance to understand this.

6. I do not own the following: Fullmetal Alchemist (© Arakawa) and Hammer (© Stoplight Delight).

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><p><strong>A Tale of Common Teen Jeal- Epic Proportion! <strong>

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><p>In retrospect, he should have known this wouldn't lead to anything good.<p>

Of course, retrospect had been mysteriously missing these last few hours, which was why seventeen year old Roy Mustang was in this position in the first place. But in order to fully appreciate the young apprentice's plight we'll have to go back a few days.

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><p>Life at Hawkeye house was surprisingly normal given all the rumors Roy had heard of the famed alchemist who resided there. As the son of the most famous club hostess and owner in Central, when he had expressed interest in an apprenticeship of an alchemical nature, several of his aunt's seedier regulars had recommended good, military related names that will surely help the boy's reputation just by being associated with him. However, the seediest, reediest cheapskate whom Aunt Christmas served for reasons known to her alone had mentioned one name: Berthold Hawkeye. And as usual, that had been the one name that had mattered in the end.<p>

Master Hawkeye had been contacted, a payment plan arranged and the next thing Roy knew, he was off to the village of Hammer so far in the East, no one in New Optains had heard of it. However, as he made his way through the countryside, people did start recognizing his destination. In a bar a few miles outside Hammer, the young man ran into a particularly chatty drunk who swore that the old alchemist was little more than a ghost and had probably offed his own wife so she wouldn't disturb him. Of course, the man had also sworn he was sober…

No one had ever mentioned that Master Hawkeye had a daughter. And it became quite clear why after his first hour at the house. If the old man was really as good at flame alchemy as his aunt's sources claimed, then Roy supposed it was irony redefined that his daughter could freeze hell itself over with one look. On more than one occasion, Roy Mustang had found himself looking around corners to make sure the fourteen year old wasn't around before trying to explore his master's liquor cabi- _house_.

However, it couldn't be denied that the studious girl who did the work of three people in the house was a unique specimen. On some days, Roy found his eyes forcefully drawn away from his alchemy notebooks and out the window, or wherever Riza Hawkeye could be found at the given time. Before he knew it, he had her schedule memorized as well as his own. She woke up at six thirty every morning without fail, woke her father up (if he had slept at all) and then proceeded to bang pots and pans in the kitchen which was her way of waking him up and preparing breakfast at the same time. Yes, Riza Hawkeye was simply efficient that way. Breakfast was always served at seven fifteen at the kitchen table by Master Hawkeye's order because he believed that at least one meal should be eaten at the table. Riza left for school at seven thirty from Mondays to Fridays, leaving the breakfast dishes to her father.

The blonde returned from school at two thirty, by which time Roy had successfully completed his morning lessons with her father and was assigned some reading to do on which he would be quizzed from five thirty to eight. This worked perfectly well the first few weeks, until Roy realized that Riza came back at two thirty and then found himself more interested in what she did for the next three hours than Plato's view on universal balance. After that… Master Hawkeye was just forced to conclude that the boy wasn't a studying after daylight type.

It happened exactly four months after he had shown up at the Hawkeye house and addressed Riza as a servant. The girl came into her father's study timidly and asked permission to go to a school function. A _co-ed_ school function. Master Hawkeye eyed and questioned her like any father would but, not having any reason to prevent her (a pity he didn't ask Roy's opinion on the matter as about a thousand reasons why she shouldn't go were all ready and stacked in the boy's mind) from going, said she was allowed to, with the condition that she a) introduced him to her escort and b) come back before eight.

Young Ms. Hawkeye agreed to both conditions and left the study with a rare spring in her step, leaving behind a very anxious apprentice. For the rest of the day, Roy couldn't have concentrated on Ishbala reincarnated as one of his master's garden gnomes if he'd tried. The thought of Riza with some village boy really touched a nerve for some reason.

The next day, Roy set out on a new mission: to find out as much about this school event as possible. His research methods were varied, ranging from trying to inconspicuously ask Ms. Hawkeye what she intended to wear to anonymously calling up the school as a concerned older brother and demanding that beverages at the event be triple checked in case someone saw fit to spike them. He even tried to tell Master Hawkeye that horrible things ensued at such events like daughters coming home with permanent tattoos spelling the name of a lad they can't remember on their back but all his efforts were in vain. The night (well, afternoon really as no one _respectable _would think to stay out after ten in this small place) dawned bright and cheerful, the same as the sorry looking excuse for an escort Riza was bringing along.

Master Hawkeye might have been content with his daughter's dat- _useless boy she was bringing along_ but that didn't mean young David Clippie (the son of the local Blacksmith, Hammer was predictable that way) passed Roy's scrutiny. At first sight, the apprentice decided he didn't like this Clippie fellow (who had such a horsy name anyway?). His hair was too light and his face was too smarmy. He had bowed to Master Hawkeye and then to Roy, meaning he was clearly trying to win favors. He had dared buy a corsage for Riza and what's more, had even dared hand it to her. Roy had barely strained himself from flinching as "Davie's" worm-like fingers had touched Riza's small palm.

After another round of theatrical bows courtesy of Master Clippie, the young couple had left and the old alchemist had retired for his afternoon nap, leaving Roy alone. Alone and lonel- _bored_.

Yes, it was only his boredom and nothing else that had forced him to go to the attic, dig out his trunk and then dig out the only suit he had brought to this forsaken village in a fit of optimism four months ago. It was the boredom alone that had made him dust it off, put it on, steal some of Master Hawkeye's aftershave and deodorant as well as the man's size twelve shoes and make his way to the barn where the school function was being held.

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><p>Riza wasn't sure what she had expected at her very first school dance – because that was what everyone was calling it, just like the way they did in Central apparently, despite the fact that nobody danced and in fact, spent the majority of their time leaning against a wall and looking "cool" – but having Dave Clippie follow at her heels had not been it. The gathering consisted of girls from three social sets, those who had managed to snag the "good" dates (meaning boys who were older or marginally good looking), girls who were making a statement that they didn't need a date to attend the dance (in keeping with the new military policy that allowed females as much chances of enlistment as males) and girls who had came with their brothers and now were talking among themselves as said brothers indulged in the punch or a cigarette outside the barn.<p>

Since Riza didn't belong to any of the aforementioned sets, and was generally quiet by nature, she hadn't sought anyone's company. She had gotten herself a glass of fruit punch and done some wall leaning of her own. She wasn't sure how cool she looked but of what she was sure was that she would have looked a lot cooler had Dave not decided to lean right beside her and proceed to tell her his entire family history in one breath.

Dave's friendliness was surprising, if Riza was honest with herself. After all, the only reason they had decided to go out with each other was because she hadn't asked anyone and he wasn't exactly the most popular person in class. She had thought until now it was a mutual unspoken agreement that their companionship would only last until they reached the barn and resume when it was time to leave. However, Dave seemed to be under the impression that she enjoyed listening to stories of his Nana Meredith shoeing her first horse.

Just as she was about to interrupt Dave's retelling of his first poker game as he and the lads stood watch over a sick horse all night, the bell on the barn door tinkled merrily, announcing another visitor. Riza didn't bother lifting her gaze to the door until a very familiar scent hit her nostrils.

"Father?" she started in shock before her vision verified the person making his way towards her, smelling strongly of Berthold Hawkeye's cologne.

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><p>In retrospect, he should have known this wouldn't lead to anything good.<p>

Of course, retrospect had been mysteriously missing these last few hours, which was why seventeen year old Roy Mustang was in this position in the first place.

"Ah, Ms. Hawkeye…. Imagine running into you here…" Roy tried, desperately wishing her earlier exclamation of "Father!" away. He hadn't put on that much of his master's cologne, had he?

"Actually, Mr. Mustang, we're _supposed_ to be here," the future blacksmith interrupted rudely, causing the apprentice to harden his eyes in dislike at the boy even more. "What brings _you_ here, aren't you a little old for these functions?"

And just like that, Roy Mustang realized he had underestimated this Clippie boy. For smarmy as he may be, he was also sharp enough to know when someone had a problem with him. Master David might not have shown anything in front of Riza's father but he certainly wasn't going to take a stab at being polite away from Master Hawkeye's watchful eyes.

"You're right, _Davie_, most mature people are too old to be here," Roy replied presently, pointedly looking at Riza. Ms. Hawkeye, in turn, was simply staring at something on the ground. Too late, Roy realized she was eyeing his shoes and tried to hide one foot behind the other, leaning casually against the wooden wall in the process.

"Whatever," the boy retorted wittily before grabbing – _actually daring to grab_ – Riza's hand. "C'mon Riza, let's dance." Before the protest that formed on her lips could be translated to words, Roy had his own hand right on top of theirs, managing to pry Master David's fingers (none too gently) from the blonde's wrist and saying "I don't think that's a good idea.

"Why not?" two different voices asked, anger apparent in their tones. Once again, too late Roy realized that it was _two_ pairs of eyes now glaring daggers at his face. Clippie's anger he could understand, but surely Riza – Riza who hated being bothered when she was working, who liked chucking stones against the back wall of the house to see how high they would go, who made icy lemonade on hot days and drank it right in front of him without offering him any – wouldn't want to dance with this loser?

Encouraged by the girl's anger, her escort stepped back.

"And why is it exactly that I shouldn't dance, _Mr. Mustang_?" she asked once again.

"Well, _Ms. Hawkeye_, I never said you couldn't dance… I just…" he quelled at the glare she sent his way.

"Come on, Riza," David tried yet again only to be ignored as the object of his attention continued to glare for Amestris at her father's apprentice.

"And why are you here, anyway? Shouldn't you be at home with father?" she questioned further, talking over the hapless boy working up the courage to grab her hand again.

"Your father gave me the day off," Roy lied as smoothly as he could given the circumstances. "And I found myself missing the... joys of social events such as this."

By this time, Master Clippie had gotten tired of being ignored and so, simply blurted out "Riza, just dance with me. It's not like you have any other options." This was the boy's most crucial mistake of the evening. Even as Riza turned her frigid gaze to her escort, Roy's fist was already on its way to Clippie's nose. It connected with a resounding crack on the boy's face, making everyone look over more than the bell above the door ever did.

For a moment, it seemed like Master David Clippie was going to fight for his lady. He certainly balled his hands into fists and emitted a strange growl from his throat. But then his common sense must have caught up with his survival instinct because he at once realized Roy was not only taller and more built than he was but also an alchemist in training. So instead of hand to hand combat, the boy bravely made up his mind to walk away with the remaining dregs of his dignity and spread nasty rumors about Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye instead. The last anyone heard of him that evening was the tinkling sound that announced his unhappy departure from the barn.

"So… Ms. Hawkeye, about that dance?" Roy tried again only to be greeted by the firm set of her mouth. "Okay, I take it you don't dance. No matter, why don't I get us a drink and tell you all about how my Aunt established her own business in Central…"

He couldn't be entirely sure due to the harsh lighting in the barn, but for a moment, Roy Mustang could have sworn he saw Riza Hawkeye rolling her eyes resignedly.

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><p><strong>End Note:<strong> I wasn't sure I could even punch out a humor _drabble_ let alone a 2k one shot after writing so much angst and I'm still not sure how I did. So please drop me a review and let me know.


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